


rose is a good pillow, okay

by ang3lba3



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Incest, Smoking, Sunsets, obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 18:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11087682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/pseuds/ang3lba3
Summary: when it's the end of the world, 'this could be incest but might not be' doesn't count as a reason to not take comfort in your brother.... in arms.





	rose is a good pillow, okay

**Author's Note:**

> prompt was fidelity by regina spektor, which i listened to on repeat while i wrote this, and will thus claim as actually applying as an inspiration.

the concrete is grey, the roses climbing her trellis are orange, and the sunset is brilliant.

the sky has been gray for days, not even the moon showing through the thick of the clouds, but now it’s clearing and it’s worth every goddamn second it was clouded just to see the light refract through the dust.

“I feel like I should give you something now that we’re… you know,” dave says, and she hums in acknowledgement and encouragement before ruining the noise with words.

“you mean now that we’re engaged in possibly incestuous intimate activities?” she asks.

“doesn’t count if the world is ending and you wrap it before you tap it. you should know that, lalonde.” his hand inches closer to hers, but he doesn’t wrap his thin fingers around her thick ones. he’s always waiting for her to make the first move, like he doesn’t quite know what to make of her wanting him back. “nothing counts if the world is ending.”

“we’ve already produced children, so I don’t suppose that it matters if I kiss you then, does it?” she asks, and covers his hand with her smaller one.

“you’re not sure if they’re our children or if we’re theirs, remember, lalonde?”

“how can one be sure of anything when they’ve been produced through paradox rather than random chance?” she pauses. “besides, you try figuring out what any of that green slime and machine meant through a thirty second dream.”

“rose lalonde, admitting that she doesn’t know something. that’ll be the day, I always thought to myself, but here it is, and it doesn’t feel like anything special.”

“I admit that I don’t know how you got to be such a freudian littered dumbass all the time, dave.”

he laughs, and the moment settles into silence, that quickly charges with his doubts, with his fears, with rose’s dead resignation and determination. “im…”

he doesn’t finish the sentence. he never does. rose knows how it ends, anyways.

“wanna watch a shitty drama horror movie made for tv?” he asks instead.

“you say shitty when you mean incredible, young man.”

“isn’t it bad enough you could be my mother when youre not emphasizing that our meteors hit twenty seconds apart? you fell into a hill, rose. we were moving at exactly the same speed.”

“makes sense why I always have the high ground then, doesn’t it?” she stands, and drags him to his feet with her. it’s not hard. he’s about as heavy as a sack of feathers and has about as much resistance to going where she wants him.

“fuck off,” he says amicably. if he was closer to her height, he’d nudge her shoulder with his. instead he kicks at her shins half heartedly. rose rolls her eyes.

they duck through the window that let them out on their roof one at a time, dave with a sarcastic ‘ladies first’ bow. they settle on the bed, and rose combs her fingers through his hair while they watch the movie, his head cushioned against her stomach.

“you may be a snarky broad but you’re a great pillow,” he says as the first murder occurs. it’s as tacky and over the top as either of them could have ever wanted.

“you may be a shitty excuse for a rapper, but you’re a great brother—” rose pauses, and can hear him about to protest, “—in arms.”

“you fuckin asshole,” dave says.

rose grabs a cigarette from the nightstand, sets an ashtray on her breasts. she dangles the cig in dave’s face.

“a light, please, for this dark, dark world.”

“you’re melodramatic, I ever tell you that?” but he blows a spark onto the end anyways and it lights. he rolls his tongue between his teeth, the way he always does when he breathes fire. “gimme a hit.”

“ladies first,” rose says sarcastically, and he snorts despite himself.

being saviors of the world all the time is impossible, and these moments make something break in rose even as it heals.

especially when she knows they don’t save it.

rose doesn’t ask if dave ever feels like this is futile. if he feels like all of this is doomed. he doesn’t know they’re doomed to fail, the things she’s seen in her dreams. she doesn’t ask because she knows that he can suspects, and it would break her heart to hear it from his lips, for him to read the confirmation in her face, for that hope he guards so jealously to go out.

she takes a drag of the cig, blows the smoke into his upturned face, listens to him swear and feels him smack at her arms, and smiles, just for now.

**Author's Note:**

> i can be found on tumblr at ang3lba3.tumblr.com 
> 
> (sorry, too lazy and tired to hyperlink)


End file.
